447 Poem by RIC BASTASA

Sometimes I wish I were not a part of you
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My feet are pinched
With needles.
Your hands are not there.

I try to relieve myself from pain.
It is not happening.
There is no miracle.
There is no cure.

The world is a big space.
I can leave anytime and
Take the shape
Of air.

I can be gone.
How come that I become
A part of you
And her?

I do not remember myself coming
Here and sitting on this chair.
Fate.
Cruel fate.
I want to leave but I cannot go
I do not want to stay but I am staying.

How I wish I were not a part
Of this mess:
This cruelty inflicted
From your hand
To my hand.

How I wish I were
Someone else

Here I am.
I am your hair to your head.
Your fingers to your hand.
Your toes to your feet.

I guess. We must learn to live
With each other.
Dislikes disregarded
We begin
Our silent wars.

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